


The Cult of Hypnos

by sitelen0seaglass



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Drama, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Revenge, Self-Discovery, power trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-22 00:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitelen0seaglass/pseuds/sitelen0seaglass
Summary: Hypnos has long been considered a minor deity by mortals and gods alike; the lazy, cheerful black sheep of the chthonic deities. But when he discovers a group of mortals who adore him, he begins to explore the tremendous power he truly wields, actions that do not go unnoticed for very long.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	The Cult of Hypnos

“Come Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,

The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,

The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release,

The indifferent judge between the high and low;

With shield of proof shield me from out the press

Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw;

O make in me those civil wars to cease;

I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.

Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,

A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light;

A rosy garland, and a weary head;

And if these things, as being thine by right,

Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,

Livelier than elsewhere, Stella’s image see.”

As usual, Hypnos spent his break sleeping. The god of sleep did not “fall” asleep in the way that mortals did, to him the transition was smooth and at will, like how one walks through a door from one room to another. In fact, there were doors to the sleeping world, though only a select few, him among them of course, were ever able to see them. He had carved the gates of horn and ivory eons ago, and he was quite proud of his craftsmanship. They were several stories tall, gleaming tan and purest white, with intricate, ever-shifting carvings on their surfaces. It was a shame that he was the only one who showed them much appreciation. A multicolored fog billowed up from the marble floor that lay in front of the gates, the whole of it wafting through the ivory doorway. Intangible shapes writhed in that mist of pure dream. The Gate of Horn, the door through which true dreams flowed, rarely saw much traffic. Hypnos could remember a time long ago, before Achilles had come to the house, when the other gods would ask him to send their favored champion a prophecy or revelation through it, but it seemed as though this aspect of his realm had been forgotten. And so it was that most dreams traveled through the Gate of ivory, the gate of false dreams and fantasy, into sleeping minds.  
  
He stepped through the white gate, the fog around the entrance was too thick to see beyond, but a few steps in it dispersed to reveal the seemingly endless realm of Oneiros. Hypnos floated in a vast expanse of black, lit by the tens of thousands of little rainbow lights that surrounded him. Each and every one held a dream someone was currently experiencing. There were also a number of dull grey orbs that emitted no light, indicating a soul deep in a dreamless sleep. He drifted amongst the lights for a few moments, perusing the glimpses of scenes he could see in them, until he came to one that was a rich emerald green, he sensed amusement and happiness in the fabric of this dream. There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment in the underworld, besides the arena in Elysium and Orpheus’ performances, but he could always find a dream to occupy him for a time, no matter what his taste may be at the moment.

He reached into the light, and the world billowed out around him, taking on form and color as he entered the dream. It was sundown, and a crowd filled the stands of an amphitheater constructed entirely of emerald. Hypnos stood on the very top row, able to surveille the scene in its entirety. On stage a troupe of actors in mismatched costumes played out a comedic scene of, as far as he could tell, a merchant catching a thief in the act. The faces of the actors, as well as those of everyone in the crowd, were blurry. There was the idea of eyes, nose, and mouth on each individual, but none looked like real people. The only figure with definite features was the dreamer herself, who sat a few rows down watching the performance, enraptured. Hypnos climbed down the steps and sat next to her, leaning back to enjoy the rest of the play. In most of the dreams he visited, their subjects didn’t notice him unless he went out of his way to get their attention, which was why it was quite a surprise when the woman glanced to the side as he sat down, did a double take, and jumped out of her seat with an expression of shock and awe on her face. She bent into a deep bow.  
“Lord Hypnos! I-I am truly honored to be in your presence.”

He blinked. “You can see me?” Odd, he hadn’t willed himself to be visible to her. Although there were some occasions where mortals became aware that they were dreaming, perhaps this was a case of that. The formality, too, was somewhat unexpected. “Oh, I see, you’re having a lucid dream! Enjoy it while it lasts, ey?”

“If I may, my lord, I, forgive my clumsy speech, but I can hardly believe I am the first of our order to speak to you directly! Your holy priest instructed us on how we may enter your realm whilst retaining our awareness.”

His priest? Now that too was a surprise. Most of the Olympians had temples and priests devoted to them; Apollo had his priestess at Delphi, Athena had a grand temple in one of the major cities, but the only chthonic god he knew of that got much recognition from mortals was Lord Hades. And even so, Hypnos had long considered himself one of the minor gods, the others at the house seemed to view his duties as sleep incarnate trivial, and so he didn’t expect much tribute from mortals the way the more prominent members of the pantheon did. Sleep just wasn’t as important as the seasons or war or the sky. 

“I have a priest? Wow, I mean, that’s something! I don’t think I’ve really had worshippers before, who is this guy? Why go to all the trouble?” Of course, what he really wanted to ask was “why do you think I’m so important?” 

“His name is Igetis, lord Hypnos. I first met him last autumn when my father fell ill. He used a special tincture to put him into a healing sleep, and credited you with my father’s miraculous recovery. I had never truly known the power you possess, Lord, but Igetis showed myself and several others the truth, of the importance of your domain. It is, as I have said, a great honor to be able to speak with you.” The woman beamed, but appeared to notice the somewhat puzzled look on the god's face.

She spoke with more caution in her voice: “ I fear, Lord Hypnos, that we mortals have not paid you proper tribute. What must we do, what can we offer to earn your favor?”

“Well, um, hmmm…” Hypnos didn’t have all that much he wanted, now that he thought about it, at least nothing that a group of mortals could give him. He wanted to make his family proud, and perhaps to be able to spend more time with them; but when it came to material things, well, why did the Olympians make such a fuss about sacrifices?

“I guess, poppies?” They were his favorite flower, and it wasn’t a huge hassle to procure them, if the mortals really felt the need to give him offerings it was something. That, and he didn’t want to claim a prize cow or anything, where some other god might think he was infringing on their territory.

She nodded, “Ah, yes, Igetis showed us how the flower can bring sleep and ease pain. I will be sure to inform the others of your wishes, my lord, and we shall bring the offering to your shrine at once.” 

Actually, now that he thought about it, how did offerings even work? He knew that Zagreus had given the Olympians nectar, but he was in direct contact with them; did they just… know if someone gave them offerings? It looked like he would find out soon enough, though the whole thing was flattering regardless.

“That’s very kind of you, uh, tell ya what, in return for your offerings, I shall, um, bestow upon your order a blessing!” The etiquette in the underworld was a gift for a gift, it seemed only fair. But he hadn’t really given a blessing before, think, what kind of boons did the Olympians offer Zagreus? “Let’s see, In honor of your loyalty...none of your order shall suffer from insomnia!” That seemed like a proper trade. 

The woman bowed again, clearly awed “We are ever grateful for this blessing my lord, we-”   
And the dream fizzled out, the crowds and actors faded away, leaving Hypnos once again floating alone in the starfield. Curses, too many times, mortals woke up just as their dreams were getting to a good bit, and it was hardly ever as aggravating as right now. But, he consoled himself that he knew the identities of all who entered Oneiros, finding the woman again would be a simple task. 

He reached out to another dream: a coastal village, the dreamer a young man who stood outside his home, a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. With a proud grin he held up the head of the giant lion he had slain, basking in the praise of the other local boys. Sleep Incarnate paid little attention to the scene, he walked down to the shore and took a seat on some driftwood, staring off into the sea. It still didn’t really make sense why this ‘Igetis’ would be singing his praises, but having someone call him of all people “lord”, knowing this order felt him important enough to make offerings to him, he felt a small glow of pride. It reminded him of how he felt when his mom had called him “capable” after he had shown improvement in his work. Maybe that was it, for so long his supervision over sleep and dreams had essentially been an unrecognized side-gig, so it was nice to receive some acknowledgement for it, even if it came from a random group of mortals. “The importance of his domain”, she had said, it was something he hadn’t given much thought to.

Soon, his break was over, and he returned to his post in the entrance hall, mind still swimming with this odd turn of events. For a few hours he scribbled down shades’ names and cause of death. He had almost forgotten the promise of an offering, so that when he began to pick out the strong scent of incense and smoke suddenly suffusing the air around him, he at first didn’t understand where it was coming from. He lifted his quill and glanced around for a source, and finding none, returned to his parchment with a shrug. Only to find that in that moment, a bouquet of freshly trimmed poppies had manifested out of thin air, and now lay on his writing pad.

So that was how the Olympians received offerings. Mortals burned them and they appeared in front of the intended god. Quite a handy little system, he thought. He held the bouquet, absentmindedly rubbing a red petal between his thumb and finger; later he might ask Dusa for an empty vase so he could display them in his room. It was such a simple gift, yet still so…heartwarming. He had worshippers. People out there on the surface who appreciated his realm and respected his abilities. Being truly wanted. He felt dizzy with glee. And come to think of it, he hadn’t visited the surface in literal ages, the last time he had seen a mortal in the flesh, maybe it was that whole affair with the ship Aphrodite’s one son captained? 

Regardless, he was long overdue for a visit topside. Perhaps he would be able to track down whatever shrine they had sacrificed the poppies at. Hypnos tucked the bouquet into his cloak, he could hardly wait for his next break. In a rare twist, the god of sleep was far too excited to be tired.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’ve posted my writing online, so I hope you all enjoy! A lot of the inspiration for how Hypno’s powers work in this fic come from Dream in “The Sandman” comics, which I can’t recommend enough.


End file.
